


Distraction

by Malandra



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Cute, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Short, Young Assassins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malandra/pseuds/Malandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As exhausted as he is, Malik still has the energy to be outraged by Altair's behavior in class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

Malik huffed, watching dust motes swirl away from his face. They danced in the light from the open window, casting opaque, curling shadows on the scarred table. Gazing at the dust particles with half-lidded eyes, Malik allowed his mind to wander from the lesson being taught at the head of the room. He normally wasn't one to daze off during class, but he was exhausted from spending all night with Altair. Sparring. As if he would do anything else with that arrogant hothead.

 _Speaking of which,_ Malik thought, glancing at the hooded figure next to him. Altair was slumped in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and legs splayed out under the table. His hood flapped slowly, moving toward his face as he inhaled and whooshing away as he exhales.

The beginning of a frown pulled at Malik's mouth. The novice was _sleeping_. The nerve! At least Malik had the dignity to stay awake and maintain a semblance of interest; Altair wouldn't even do that. The darker-haired boy jabbed an elbow into the other's ribs, starting him awake. Golden eyes blinked open blearily, sleepiness turning to confusion turning to irritation in the form of a glare aimed at Malik.

"Being tired doesn't give you an excuse to disrupt my rest," Altair muttered monotonously, face reverting to its usual stoicism in the shadow of his hood.

Malik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Pay attention, novice. It's your fault I'm tired, anyway," he tacked on childishly. He spoke louder than intended, drawing some curious and mildly irked stares from nearby classmates. Malik shooed away the attention and earned a bemused glance from Altair.

"I don't need to pay attention." The subtle drawl in his voice made the darker-haired assassin grind his teeth, opening his mouth to launch into a lecture.

"Malik, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" The instructor glared sternly from the head of the room. Someone – Kadar, mostly likely – snickered as Malik shifted uncomfortably and ducked his head.

"No, sir. I apologize for the disturbance."

"Then perhaps you'd like to the answer question."

Malik squinted at the large map pinned to the wall behind the instructor. "Um, of course. The distance between Masyaf and Damascus is— _ah!_ "

The young assassin cut himself off with a gasp as a hand squeezed his crotch. He whipped his head around to give Altair a withering glare. The auburn-haired boy had his gaze casually fixated on the front of the room as if he'd been paying attention the entire time. The teacher raised an eyebrow, motioning for Malik to continue. He stuttered through his answer, fingers grabbing the edge of the table in a vice grip as the hand on his crotch tightened. The source of his distress was hidden from view by the table and he could see Altair smirking from the corner of his eye.

Thankfully, the class was dismissed after Malik finished speaking. He stood quickly, upsetting his chair and sweeping out of the room, fuming and blushing hard. Kadar watched him go, then wandered over to where Altair was leisurely stretching.

"What's wrong with him? He seemed angry."

Altair managed to keep down a grin as he answered, though there was a low tone of humor in his voice. "I have no idea."

Kadar watched with confusion as Altair sauntered out, unsure if he'd seen the older assassin actually _smile_ as he'd turned away.


End file.
